Echoes of a Forgotten Past
by Lara-Van
Summary: He is Peter, the man with no past. Just echoes." A series of oneshots and drabbles inspired by Peter's time in Ireland. The shippy ones are mostly Peter/Caitlin, but with some Peter/Elle and Paire thrown in there if I feel like it.
1. Echoes

**Lara's Notes: I was just rewatching the start of Volume 2, and it started me thinking about Peter's time in Ireland, and I got inspired for a bunch of oneshots and drabbles on that subject. I don't know how many there will be, so just bear with me.**

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He can see them, all the time. It's stronger when he does... the things he does. Faces. They haunt him. They float around in the back of his mind, echoes from his forgotten past. The pretty blonde girl, with the sad little smile and sparkling emerald eyes. The tall, square-jawed man in a suit and tie. The bespectacled Japanese man, whose image is blurry. Another blonde, whose blue eyes always blink flirtatiously when she whispers across his subconscious. The terrifying man, whose image is always accompanied by the smell of blood and the ticking of clocks.

They haunt him. But he can't make anything of them. They're just faces. No real associations. No names.

And so he loses himself in the smell of Caitlin's hair and the feeling of her lips on his and pretends that they're not there. He concentrates solely on the present. He is Peter, the man with no past.

Just echoes.


	2. Missing Him

I know he isn't normal. Maybe he isn't even human. Most of the girls I know would be turned off by that. Frightened. Even as I laugh at them, I pity those girls. They don't know what they're missing.

I'm not exactly normal, myself. I played footie with my brother as a child and got in fights and got dirty and loved every second of it. I took care of my own and I learned to outdrink everyone I know. I was never afraid of anything, and I always jumped headfirst into something without looking. Life is a playground, and I never forget that. Yeah, you sometimes wind up with scraped knees, but I'm used to that.

Broken hearts are harder to get used to.

Somehow, I know I'm going to end up with one. And it's because of these things he can do. He has a past. He has a history. I knew that all along, but it's the powers that drive it home to me. Not just the powers, actually. One power. Whatever it is he does with the painting. Because in amongst all the varied, frightening images, there's one that keeps cropping up over and over again.

A girl. A cheerleader, from the looks of the flouncy blue skirt. Blonde hair. Beautiful green eyes that stare out of the canvas and seem to accuse me of taking what's hers.

Because I know he's hers, when the scores are tallied. The other paintings are rendered in a sloppy, rough-slung style, as if he doesn't really care, even in his trance state. But whenever her image pours forth from his brush, I see him slow down, unconsciously taking greater care with her face than any other. Every detail is rendered lovingly sharp and perfect. Whether he knows her name or not, he belongs to her.

So I kiss him and make love to him, and try to pretend that, for now, he's with me. But I know that somewhere out there, she's waiting.

Somewhere, a cheerleader is missing him.


	3. Aftermath of a Kiss

**Alright. A oneshot rather than a drabble, for a change. Enjoy! **

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"Do you like where you are right now? Do you like who you are right now?" she asked, staring into my eyes. I nodded. What else could I do? She leaned closer to me. I leaned closer to her. "Then maybe- just for now- you can... leave it be." Her green eyes asked, and I lean a little closer still, ready to answer.

Our lips met, and I was in heaven. I didn't have any real memories to compare it to, but something in me says that Caitlin is like no one else I've ever been with. She's beautiful, she's brave, she's funny as hell. And somehow, impossibly, she wanted to be with me. She responded to me eagerly, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. I was drowning in her, a flash of heat running through me as I tangled my hands in her hair and tried to pull her closer.

The table between us got in the way, and I slipped sideways, jerking our lips apart.

Of course.

Just my luck.

Her green eyes met mine, startled. And then she lost her straight face and burst out laughing. I felt myself turning crimson. "The- the table..." I muttered, pointing sullenly to the offending piece of oak. The laughter died away, though she was still grinning. I couldn't take her derision anymore and leapt to my feet, hurrying across the pub to the back room where I spend most of my days. I heard her call after me, but I didn't respond. I slammed the door shut behind me and flopped down on the cot, retreating into the fascinating landscape of the bare ceiling.

I don't know how long it was before I heard her tapping at the door. It wasn't exactly a tentative knock, to say the least. If there's one thing that can be said about her, she never does anything halfway.

_There's no way I'm letting her in here. Not after making a complete and utter fool out of myself, kissing her like that. What the hell was I thinking? I don't even know who- let alone what- I am. I must be crazy to think I could have handled a girlfriend on top of all this insanity._ But Caitlin wasn't going to be denied, apparently, and seconds later, the door burst open.

"How the hell did you get in?" I demanded, jerking up into a sitting position as she stormed in.

She held up a silver key. "I run the pub, remember?"

"Oh."

There was a brief, extremely uncomfortable silence. Then she crossed the room and dropped down on the cot next to me. "I'm sorry I laughed," she said softly. "It's just... the look on your face..." She had to bite her lips to hold back a smile, just thinking about it.

I flopped onto my back and closed my eyes. "Great," I groaned. "I go from Prettyboy to the store-room freak with the weird expressions."

"Peter," she said, and there wasn't an ounce of humor in her voice. I opened my eyes.

She was looking at me solemnly. "Peter," she repeated, "I care about you. A lot, okay? I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't realize it would bother you that much."

I shrugged, sitting up. "Actually, I don't think it does. I'm just confused, I guess, about a lot of things."

"Yeah, for good reason!" she exclaimed. "You haven't got a clue who you are."

"Oh that's right, I'd forgotten. Thanks for reminding me," I said sarcastically. She laughed again, but this time I was glad to hear it. Hesitantly, I took her hand. "So..." I said slowly. "Do I get to try again?" The smile lingered on her face and she nodded, leaning in to meet my lips enthusiastically with hers...

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**And the rest is history! Reviewage?**


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